Chapter 33
I’ve always known I’m a bit of an oddball, mostly because I love surprises. Like, genuinely. The weirder and more unexpected, the better.
So, when I walk through the door of Jiho’s parents’ house expecting fireworks and barbecue, only to hear “Surprise!” and spot Elaine grinning at me from the crowd, I light up like a damn sparkler.
Because, surprise—this Fourth of July party isn’t for America. It’s for me. A full-blown bon voyage send-off.
Elaine and I squeal at the same time as she lunges for me, her long arms wrapping around my neck and smushing my face into her boobs.
“I missed you so much, Morgs!”
“I missed you, too,” I mumble into her chest pillows. “How are you even here?”
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, letting my lungs drink in the sweet, boobless air.
“Jiho coordinated it. Even insisted on paying for my flights.” She shoots a playful glare his way. “I still plan to pay you back. I have an envelope of cash to hide somewhere in your house. Husband’s orders.”
Jiho only shrugs. “Just tell Raymond I expect a good steak and a bottle of whiskey when we visit.”
Tears well in my eyes, sheer will refusing to let them fall. I may be leaving tomorrow, but Jiho talks as if I’ll be back next week. Like there will be a next time, a future set in stone.
Elaine crosses her arms, mock-scowling. “How is your boyfriend so perfect?”
My eyes take in his—indeed—perfect face, a grin curving my lips. “I ask myself that every day. But we can’t say it out loud too often. It’ll go straight to his head.”
“Trust me, Elaine,” Jina cuts in, sauntering over with John trailing behind, “my brother is far from perfect. Case in point.” She pulls out her phone, taps, then flips it around. “Care to share what this is with the class, Oppa? ”
Heat creeps up my neck when I spot the photo and cringe. Hard.
“It looks like an extra clean sauna,” Jiho deadpans. “Whoever cleaned it did an outstanding job.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure—except you bleached the fucking wood.”
“Twice, actually. Just like you said.”
Jina groans, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “You owe me a new sauna. I had to put an out-of-order sign on it. The oldie-goldies were pissed.”
“Jin, I told you we can just stain it to match again,” John offers gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
For a moment, I think maybe they’ve patched things up. But Jina shrugs him off without a glance or word.
“Did you hear something?” she asks Elaine. “Like an annoying, whiny voice? Been bugging me for days.”
Elaine throws me a helpless look. “Uhhh… no?”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” John mutters, jaw ticking, already turning away. “I’ll catch you later, Morgan.”
Jiho sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Seriously, Jina? Haven’t you punished the guy enough?”
She jabs him in the chest with a finger. “Not your business. Your business is fixing my sauna.”
“I’ve had a migraine all day,” Jiho groans, now massaging his temples. “And you’re making it worse.”
I turn to him for what feels like the hundredth time. “Baby, please take something. I hate seeing you suffer.”
“Absolutely not. I only take medicine—”
“If I’m actually dying,” Jina cuts in, mocking in a low voice, complete with an eye roll. “Good luck with that, Morgan.”
I flinch when she says my name, bracing for my own finger jab to the chest. But instead, her face softens, and she pulls me into a hug. “You’re seriously the best. I love that you love Jiho. But a friendly warning—fucking in a gym won’t fly in Korea. Keep that in mind when my idiot, horndog brother visits.”
From the corner of my eye, Elaine swats Jiho’s arm. “You dog,” she drawls.
“One more thing,” Jina adds, pulling back from the hug. “I came over to warn you. My mom invited Kelsey, not knowing what all went down. I know she apologized, but…I figured you still don’t really want her around. Especially at your goodbye party.”
I wave a truly unbothered hand. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”
“Yeah, except…” She hesitates, biting her lip. “She’s bringing Reginald. And I swear I didn’t know until she texted me five minutes ago. They’re on their way.”
“Oh shit,” Elaine and I say in unison, right as Jiho mutters a curse.
Elaine’s eyes scan the room. “I’ll be back. I need to find Michelle’s purse and hide her scalpel.”
“I’ll help,” Jina mumbles, rushing after her.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Jiho murmurs, slipping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll tell them both to leave when they get here.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“What?” he shrugs. “I’ll ask them nicely.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want to make a scene. Not when your mom was so kind to host this for me.”
I glance around the house, soaking it all in—the buzz of conversation, the scent of grilled meat still clinging to the air. Everyone bailed on the summer heat and retreated indoors, where Jiho’s mom went all out. Red, white, and blue decorations cover every surface.
At the kitchen table, our parents laugh, heads tilted back, drink glasses half-full and forgotten. Jiho’s grandfather sulks on the living room couch, arms crossed, glaring at the muted baseball game like it insulted him in the worst way. No one dares disturb his grumpy bubble.
And in the corner, Jina sips her drink while Elaine holds Michelle’s scalpel just out of reach. My sister keeps trying to snatch it back without committing an actual felony. Honestly, it’s impressive how long Elaine manages to keep the upper hand.
And even with tomorrow looming—suitcases packed with new clothes and already loaded in my car—I let myself sink into the moment. Surrounded by people I love, Jiho’s steady warmth at my side, everything feels… right. So right, not even Kelsey or Reginald can ruin it.
It’s a good thought. As perfect as the evening itself.
And I hold onto it for dear fucking life, when, an hour later, I can no longer avoid the step-siblings like the plague.
I hold on even tighter when Jiho excuses himself to finally deal with his migraine. He pops two prescription-strength pills from Michelle’s personal pharmacy, then disappears to his old bedroom to lie down until they kick in.
Maybe it’s Michelle and Elaine’s synchronized death glares. Maybe it’s my dad, literally growling like a rabid dog from five feet away. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that Reginald’s surrounded by too many witnesses.
Whatever the reason, our conversation’s been…surprisingly pleasant.
Even after Jiho left the room—followed shortly by Kelsey, off to hunt down Jina—Reginald has kept things civil. Suspiciously civil.
Too suspiciously civil not to ask, “Why are you being so…nice to me?”
Reginald snorts, taking a swig from his beer. “Maybe I want to part on good terms. Maybe I feel bad for some shit.”
“But you never feel bad. For anything. Ever.”
“People change, Morgan,” he says with a shrug, brushing off years of his bullshit like it’s dust on his sleeve.
Oh, to have the conscience of a mediocre man. Must be a good life.
My brows shoot into my hairline. “Are you saying you’ve changed?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Helping out family. Saying goodbye to a…friend, or whatever the hell you are.”
Never mind. Goodbye, false hope. It was nice knowing you for all of three seconds. “Right. Yeah. Totally changed.”
Reginald chugs the last of his beer, checking his phone when it dings. “Fucking finally,” he mutters. “My Uber’s almost here.”
“Leaving already? It’s only been forty-five minutes.”
“Yep.” Pop goes the P. “Told you, I’m here helping family. But my work here is done.”
What the fuck does that even mean?
“Okay,” I say slowly, skeptically. “Is Kelsey alright? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. She’s probably in heaven right about now.” He glances at his phone again. “Gotta go. Good luck in Seoul.”
I mutter to myself, “What did I ever see in that guy?”
“That’s the most intelligent question you’ve ever asked yourself, Sis,” Michelle says as she and Elaine slide up beside me.
Elaine defends my honor, as always. “Hey now, we’ve all been blindly in love. Morgan’s just lucky she’s got us to chase off the bad ones. Need I remind you of your terrible boyfriends, Michelle?”
My sister lifts her chin and takes a pull from her wine. “No, thank you, Elaine. My brain has spent precious time and energy blocking them all out.”
I chuckle, committing their humor and the lightness in my chest to memory. “Jiho’s different. No chasing off required with this one.”
“Blech,” Michelle gags. “Where is Mr. Perfect Lover Boy, anyway? Those meds should’ve kicked in by now.”
“I was going to check on him. Knowing him, he probably fell asleep.” I nod toward the drink in Elaine’s hand. “Get me one of those?”
“Anything for you,” she sings, blowing me a kiss.
As I head down the hall toward Jiho’s room, I take in the party again.
Michelle and Elaine are already back at the punch bowl, refilling my drink. Across the room, my parents try to teach a very confused Hyung-chul and Sook-ja how to play pinochle—a game I still don’t understand to this day. Meanwhile, John’s helping Grandpa to the porch, cigar and lighter in one hand, cane in the other.
And Jina—
She’s on her phone. Alone.
Wait.
Why is she on her phone alone? Shouldn’t Kelsey be next to her, glued to her screen, too? When they’re in the same room, they’re usually inseparable, scrolling, giggling, showing each other dumb TikToks.
My steps quicken, a bad, sinking feeling knotting in my gut, tightening with every footfall. Maybe she’s in the bathroom? But I pass it—door open, lights off, completely empty.
Shit.
Every door is wide open. Except for Jiho’s.
A prickle crawls up the back of my neck, spreading down my spine and into my fingertips. I freeze in front of his door, hand on the knob, heart pounding so hard it drowns out the music and laughter.
I know what I’m about to see before I twist the handle. The images are already there—vivid, cruel, and uninvited.
But I breathe, telling myself not to jump to conclusions. Jiho would never cheat. Not here. Not now. Not with both our families just feet away down the hall.
He isn’t reckless. He’s thoughtful. Loyal. Good. And he loves me.
If Kelsey’s in there, he’s probably pissed, trying to make her leave without causing a scene. Trying to respect his parents and protect my peace.
My heart steadies a bit. I even let a stupid, little smile creep onto my lips. The man always thinks of others. He always tries to save the day. Now, it’s my turn to save him.
But the moment I open the door, I take it all fucking back—stomach falling to the floor, right alongside that stupid little smile.
Every sound dulls like the air’s been sucked from the house, and I go completely still. My fingers curl harder around the doorknob, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and throat.
I don’t want to look. But like the trainwreck that is my fucking life, I can’t look away.
“Oh em gee, Morgan. It’s, like, so rude to interrupt,” a bare-ass Kelsey gasps from atop a shirtless Jiho.
Straddling him.
Kissing him.
Pinning his wrists.
“Morgan?” Jiho rasps, a confused lilt in his voice.
He quickly frees a hand and wrenches the rag from his eyes, shock and disgust blanching his face when he notices Kelsey on top of him—and me, frozen in the doorway.
I just stand there like a fucking idiot. Eyes wide, gawking at the man I love and trust more than anyone, half-naked beneath a completely naked someone else.
“What the fuck?!” he yells, shoving Kelsey off of him and scrambling to his feet, hands up like I’m some wild animal that needs to calm down. “Baby, this is not what it looks like. I thought she was you, I swear.”
But…I am calm.
Why am I so calm?
Oh, right. I’ve seen this before. In fact, I’ve seen it so many times I could teach a class on the subject. Cheating Boyfriends 101: How to Fucking Deal.
“Morgan,” he says again, firmer this time, but there’s a thread of caution in his voice that makes my wide eyes flick to his.
I try to speak. Swallow. Push something out. But all I manage is a pathetic, goddamn squeak.
Desperation flickers across his face as his chest begins to heave. “Baby, you know I would never do anything like—”
“Do I?” My mouth moves before I can stop it, pure survival mode.
“Apparently not,” Kelsey scoffs from the corner of the room, pulling on her clothes over her fucking perfect body. A body I’ll never have.
Jiho turns on her. “Shut the fuck up, Kelsey, or I’ll do it for you.”
“I like the sound of that,” she croons. “As soon as Morgan leaves, we can pick up where we left off. Like, seriously, I thought Reg would distract you for longer than, like, five minutes.”
And Reginald helping family all makes sense now. But me, walking into this— doesn’t.
“Kelsey, I swear to fucking God—”
“What, Jiho? You seemed to be enjoying my body until she walked in.” Her eyes dip to his crotch, and mine follow, spotting his clear erection straining beneath his boxer briefs. “Seems like you still are.”
My stomach churns.
Oh my God, he’s hard. Kelsey’s body turned him on.
Is that why he did this? Did he grow tired of my big, fat imperfections and want to feel actual physical perfection—just once—before it was too late? Before he decided to choose me?
Choose.
Dammit. Why am I always a choice?
He called me his first choice. The choice.
But if he truly loved me, why was I ever a fucking choice to begin with? Why do I always feel like I’m constantly being measured against his family and business and—now—other fucking women?
Screw being a choice. I should’ve always been the answer.
“Baby, please,” Jiho pleads, voice cracking. “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, just don’t, okay? Let’s go somewhere else and talk this through.”
“I… I should go.” Not should—I need to. I need to get the fuck out of here before the breakdown hits.
I know it’s coming, the strange serenity already giving way to panic swirling in my stomach. Mere seconds away from bursting through, filling every corner of my body. My breathing turns erratic and shallow, like I can’t get enough air.
“I… I… I can’t do this,” I choke out. “Not again.”
“What? No, no, no, no, no—don’t go,” Jiho begs, voice shaking as he reaches for me.
His hands find my arms, his grip warm, firm, familiar. An hour ago, his touch would’ve meant comfort and safety. Now it means confusion, regret, betrayal.
And pain.
The kind that yanks me hard, straight into that rising panic.
I slap his hands away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
My words shatter him, his face crumbling into heartbreak.
“You can touch me,” Kelsey drawls seductively, slinking up beside him, curling her fingers around his arm.
But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t even look at her, all five of his senses locked on me.
So, instead, I move, my vision turning red. I move for Jiho, for me, for all the times anyone made me feel insignificant, especially Kelsey and her horrendous family.
My hands curl into fists, six months in a scuzzy boxing gym, roaring back to life as I land a perfect cross right between her eyes.
Like riding a fucking bike.
Kelsey screams. Blood gushes. Chaos erupts.
People flood the room in seconds, their voices ricocheting off the walls with a million questions directed at me and Jiho.
But I hold his gaze—the man I thought I knew. I take in his pained, desperate face, knowing it’ll be the last time I see it. All the memories of that same face, smiling and laughing and smirking, eclipsed by this one.
My heart cracks in my chest, sharp, unrelenting. And it completely crumbles into dust as I whisper, “Don’t follow me,” and simply leave.
A few steps down the hall, I sense a presence behind me, but I know it’s not him, too broken to follow me now.
Instead, Elaine slips a hand into mine on one side while Michelle takes the other, both squeezing. Both ready to help piece me back together.
Again.
Again, again, and again.
The word plays on a loop in my head as we step outside, Michelle rushing ahead to start my car. And it plays even louder when the smell of tobacco carries my gaze to Grandpa, contently smoking on the porch swing.
Our eyes meet, his blank face giving nothing away, while mine gives away everything.
I know he won’t understand, but I say it anyway. “You won.”
He blinks, eyes narrowing.
“You won,” I repeat, my voice rising. “But you also lost. I might be out of his life now, but you’re the one truly losing him. Deciding who he loves isn’t up to you. And if you can’t see that…you’re dooming him to a life of regret and resentment.” I pause, taking a staggering breath. “And what kind of person would that make you?”
Michelle honks the horn twice, and Elaine ushers me on. Away from here and away from him. From Jiho.
At least in a matter of hours, I’ll be on a plane. In a new city. Starting a new life. Distance is a good thing in situations like this, right? Totally fucked-up, heartbreaking situations?
Who am I kidding? It doesn’t even matter.
Because I’ll still be me.
Morgan Asterman—the girl who’s always the choice and never the answer.